It was a voluptuous head of lettuce, the kind you can absolutely nuzzle into.

You’ve never buried your face in a mess of lettuce leaves? You should. It will change your whole perspective on leafy greens.

Scene: a sultry August evening, too hot to think. Just the right temperature for a perfectly plain salad.

I held the whole head aloft, examining its graceful curves. I peered into the ruffled shadows, seeking  its depths, nooks, and lacy crannies. I squeezed it, sniffed it, and judged it perfect.

Slicing off the fibrous white heart, I carefully pulled the nestled leaves apart, examining each one as I piled them on the counter. The small, hidden leaflets I left just as they were, ripping the others into bigger-than-bite-sized pieces.

Such voluptuous greens call for a certain licentiousness in the eating—leaves should be speared recklessly and piled high on the fork to the point of hedonism. Mouth opened wide, lips caressing frills and folds, chin and cheek glistening from oil and acid—this is the only way to do them justice.

Is it socially acceptable to finish an entire head of lettuce in one sitting? I mused. Will anyone find out either way?

I considered my heap of delicate leaves. Each shade of white, burgundy, and green was perfectly mixed, expertly blended; colors to stir envy in the heart of any artist.

It would be a shame to let perfection wilt. Better just eat the whole thing now.

And with that they all went gently into the sink full of cool water, and gently back onto my softest, cleanest kitchen towel.

No harsh spinner for you, only the star treatment.

Perhaps I get too attached to my veggies.

Transferring the entire pile to a glittering pyrex mixing bowl, I dressed it sparingly, running my hands through the silky pieces and touching each with tender care to assure there were no breaks, no bruises. Not on these perfect leaves. Not today.

I curled up on the couch and hugged the bowl to my chest, breathing in the verdant smell of greens mingled with rich grassy olive oil, the sharp floral scent of crushed pepper, and a hint of sun-bright acid courtesy of a fresh-squeezed lemon.

Like a truly beautiful woman, a perfect head of lettuce needs very little to make it shine.

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Lemon and Olive Oil Dressing (adapted from Julia Child)

Makes enough to dress two average heads of lettuce

1/2 c good olive oil

3 T freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 t dijon mustard

Zest of half a lemon

1/4 t salt

1/4 t pepper

Directions

1. Wash one head of fresh lettuce, pat it dry, and rip it into manageable pieces. Put all the ingredients into a jar except the lettuce.

2. Put the rest of the ingredients into a jar. Screw the lid on tightly and shake vigorously, until the dressing becomes creamy.

3. Spoon half of the dressing onto the lettuce.

4. With clean hands, gently toss the salad to coat each leaf with dressing.

5. Sprinkle with a pinch of flaked salt and a grind or two of black pepper if desired. The salt adds a slight crunch as well as a pop of briny flavor that dissipates as the flakes dissolve into the dressing. Like a perfect head of lettuce or a sun-dappled afternoon, evanescence is the most alluring quality here.

6. Divide by hand onto several plates or eat the whole thing straight from the bowl.